


"I'll walk you home."

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Series: Mystrade Monday Part 2: Flash Fiction [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dinner, Don't Post To Another Site, Early Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Mystrade Monday Prompts, Pre-Relationship, mystrade, walking in London
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: Greg is still struggling with the pain of his divorce. Is he ready to move on when the opportunity presents itself?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Mystrade Monday Part 2: Flash Fiction [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862299
Comments: 30
Kudos: 132





	"I'll walk you home."

He’d walk. He’d done it before. It took a little over an hour to walk from Sherlock’s flat to his own in Vauxhall. It was one of those days when Greg wanted the time to process his thoughts and feelings.

Down Tottenham Court Road, he walked steadily. This last case churned up so many painful memories of the last days of his marriage. It stunned him how much he identified with the perpetrator. He didn’t condone the reaction, but he certainly understood it.

Through Trafalgar Square he went, and out onto Whitehall. He thought he was over it, his failed marriage and his ex-wife. He thought he’d moved on. He’d made his own plans for his holidays. He was going out with his friends. Well, work mates, but it was still socializing. He even looked at a few dating apps.

Whitehall transitioned to Parliament then to Abbingdon. He’d thought he was ready to start dating again. He found himself thinking about having a partner. Someone to have have dinner with. Someone to laugh with watching classic comedies. Someone to curl up against on cold nights. Someone to make plans with for next week, next summer, and the next ten years.

There were even moments when he felt attracted to another person. There was barista at his local coffee shop. She was cute, but too young. A few celebrities had caught his eye and imagination. And… Him. His mind shied away from the picture that had formed.

No one attainable, as Greg thought about it. Maybe that was the point. It was safe to be attracted to someone who wasn’t really a part of his life, and that made him think. Was he truly over the betrayal, pain, and fear he’d experienced at his ex-wife’s hands?

Greg entered Victoria Tower Gardens South. The intensity of the emotions he confronted during this last case made him wonder. Would he ever be able to put the past behind him? He felt damaged. No one wants someone damaged as a boyfriend or husband.

Greg wandered through the park eventually ending up at the Buxton Fountain. He stood looking at the ornate monument. He was going to have to make more of an effort to free himself from the specter of the past, if he really wanted to move on.

He walked onward to the path that ran along the Thames. He could see someone standing at the wall staring out at the river. As Greg grew closer, he recognized the slim build and the sharp profile. It was… Him.

The figure glanced over at the sound of Greg’s approaching steps.

“Mycroft?”

The man turned fully to greet him. He leaned a little on the umbrella planted at his side. “Gregory, what brings you along this path? It’s a bit far a field for you.”

Greg smiled at Mycroft’s formality. “I’m on my way home,” Greg replied. Mycroft raised his eyebrows. “I needed to think, so I decided to walk.”

Mycroft nodded. He looked out at the flashing, dark waters of the Thames. “I often walk when I need to think.”

“Not sure it helped much, except now I have an appetite for dinner.”

“Hmm… Dinner was one of the things I was thinking about.” Mycroft turned away from the river. “Trying to decide whether to indulge in takeaway or stick to one of the many meals stashed in my freezer.”

“You have frozen dinners in your freezer?” Greg was a little surprised.

Mycroft appeared bemused. “I’m a bachelor with a demanding position and an irregular schedule. Of course I have frozen meals.”

“I bet they’re super posh ones,” Greg teased.

“Super posh? They aren’t from Marks & Spencer, if that’s what you mean.”

Greg chuckled, “That’s exactly what I meant.”

Mycroft chuckled as well.

“There’s a good Indian place near mine,” Greg mentioned, feeling a bit awkward as soon as he said it. “I thought I might stop in there, for a curry or, you know,” he trailed off, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

Mycroft glanced down the walking path in the direction of Greg’s Vauxhall flat. “I’ll walk you home,” he announced.

“Yeah?” Greg was surprised. “That’d be great.”

“Do they have a good onion bahji?” Mycroft asked as they headed down the path toward the walk along Millbank.

“The best. Seriously.”

* * *

_Six months later…_

Greg opened the freezer and sorted through the contents. “We’ve got the pork and fennel meatballs and salmon massaman curry,” he called out. “I could—oh hello!” Greg smiled as long arms looped around his waist and the side of his neck was kissed softly.

“Whatever suits you,” Mycroft murmured.

“I was going to say I could make pasta to have with the meatballs or rice for the curry.”

“Pasta is faster,” Mycroft answered, deciding for them. Mycroft gave Greg a squeeze before releasing him and went to the cabinet to find the pasta pot.

“Pork and fennel meatballs it is.” Greg pulled the container out. “Oh!” He pulled out another package. “We have brownies!” He closed the freezer and brought over the two packages.

“Yes, I noticed how enraptured you were with them, so I ordered more.” Mycroft grinned, as he settled the pasta pot now filled with water on the stove top.

“Best boyfriend ever, you are,” Greg declared kissing Mycroft briefly,before getting out the cookie sheet.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile. “You’re remarkably easy to please.”

“Do you have to work after dinner?” Greg asked after he prepped the meatballs for the microwave and started them going.

Mycroft checked the pasta pot, but the water was not yet boiling. “I’ve a few notes to review. Probably take me an hour.”

“You want to watch Vicar of Dibley later?”

Mycroft thought a moment. “No, no, no… yes,” he mimicked.

Greg laughed. He watched Mycroft start the pasta cooking and felt a deep sense of satisfaction and contentment.

“What?” Mycroft asked as he noted Greg staring at him.

“Just feeling incredibly lucky someone like you could care for a broken old man like me.”

Mycroft pulled Greg into a warm embrace. “Not broken. Wounded, perhaps.”

Greg nodded, his face pressed against Mycroft’s chest. He poked a bit at the wounds. They didn’t hurt. He pushed harder, waiting for the familiar ache that didn’t come. Greg lifted his face to gaze up at Mycroft. “I don’t feel wounded with you.” The old aches and familiar pains had faded into a distant memory.

They kissed passionately, until the splash and sizzle of water on the hob pulled them apart to deal with the boiling over pasta pot.


End file.
